


we'll all be gone for the summer

by pocky_slash



Series: shore verse [3]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Beach Holidays, Canon Disabled Character, Established Relationship, Family, Family Bonding, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Step-parents, Summer Vacation, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik's usual family beach vacation gets a little bigger when they agree to watch Erik's teenaged twins for the summer. Charles is looking forward to a chance to bond with his step-children. Erik is terrified of screwing them up even more.</p><p> </p><p><b>10-03-13:</b> Chapter 8 (the last for now) added :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! This started as a prompt from **pearlo** on tumblr: _erik/charles, modern au where they've been together for years, erik has custody of his teenage kids during their summer vacation_. I wrote a little on tumblr and we texted about it back and forth extensively and I kept coming up with things from their vacation that I wanted to write about.
> 
> SO. This isn't a WiP--there's not an overlying plot and each chapter can pretty much be read independently--but I might add more chapters to it as the summer goes on. Think of it as a ficlet collection rather than a work in progress.
> 
> Also, Pearl really deserves a lot of credit on this one. We normally bounce ideas back and forth, but she actually wrote a couple of lines in this one and really had a hand in shaping it into what it is now. I just wrote the words. THANK YOU, BB ♥
> 
> (Also also, this story is unabashedly Jersey and I'm not changing it. Sorry, that's the way it goes. Let's say Erik spent his formative years in Jersey and his Jersey-isms stuck enough that Charles started using them too, okay?)

It was their second date that Erik told Charles about his children.

Charles had been preoccupied with coming up with a way to broach the subject of the intricacies of paraplegic sex and how he would very much like to have some soon, maybe after dinner if Erik was so inclined, when Erik blurted out, "I have kids."

Charles stared at him for a moment.

"Oh?" he finally asked, hoping he hadn't sounded strained.

"From my...my ex-wife has custody. We found out she was pregnant after we were already...in the process of divorcing. But I see them once a week." 

"Oh," Charles said. Erik was young. Really young. Only a few years older than Charles.

"They're twins. They're two," Erik added.

"Well," Charles said, with what he hoped was composure, "I'd like to meet them one day."

It was the right thing to say, apparently. Erik smiled and went home with him and was very amenable to sex and to learning everything he could about how to touch Charles. In fact, Erik went home with him the next night too, and then the nights started blurring together into domestic partnership and a child of their own and then marriage, spiralling outward thirteen years from that second date. Charles met Erik's children and continued to meet them--going to their baseball games and art shows and school plays and occasionally spending time with Erik's ex-wife, Magda, who was actually quite charming. He saw them, sometimes briefly, sometimes all day, on Erik's Sunday visits, and occasionally they spent a long weekend at the house.

And then, a month ago, Magda had called with a favor. She had a chance to teach a summer program in Germany. Would it be possible for Erik and Charles to watch the twins for the summer?

Charles was cautiously optimistic--a whole summer to better connect with his stepchildren, a whole summer for his daughter to get to know her half-siblings, a whole summer for his husband to really reach out to his older children, now fifteen and on the cusp of adulthood.

Erik was slightly less enthused.

"A whole summer," Erik muttered darkly the morning the twins were to arrive.

"It will be fun," Charles insisted. “You’re always saying you wish you could be a better father to them. Here’s your chance."

"I meant that I wish I could see them more often, maybe a full weekend or a week here or there," Erik said. “I didn’t mean three whole months in a row!"

Charles made a sympathetic noise, but he was rather tired of the whole argument, the one they had for three weeks. Charles was happy to watch them and Lorna was over the moon with the excitement of spending a whole summer with her half-siblings, but Erik had been dragging his feet since Magda called and asked for the favor in the first place. Charles knew it was fear and anxiety—Erik was-- _is_ \--constantly terrified that he already ruined their childhood, shouldering the brunt of the blame for the divorce, no matter how frequently both Charles and Magda try to tell him otherwise. The idea of three months with Wanda and Pietro read to Erik like three consecutive months just waiting for him to make mistake after mistake and drive his children into resentment.

"Come on," he said to Erik, wheeling himself down the ramp to the driveway. The best way to deal was to push forward. “They’re about a minute away and the children are quite nervous. Best to spend some time with them before Lorna gets home from daycare."

"This is going to end horribly," Erik said, but he followed Charles anyway.

And it's been fine. Mostly. Pietro is resistant and Wanda is quiet, but they're settling into a routine and Charles is optimistic. Lorna has been adjusting--she spent the first two days enraptured by her siblings, but she quickly discovered that having them around meant that Daddy's attention was split three ways. After a few tantrums, the likes of which they haven't seen in years, she seems to have adjusted relatively well. She follows the older children around, beaming at them, and Wanda, at least, is fairly tolerant of her presence. 

Seeing Erik around them has been illuminating. It's made him love Erik more, if anything, watching him fumble with the twins, his attention so earnest it's heartbreaking. It's different than he is around Lorna--there's an ease in their interactions that's missing from his time with the twins. Charles knows he shouldn't compare them; the situations are completely different, Erik's relationships with all three children are completely different. He wants to be as comfortable with them as he is with Lorna, and Charles can see it in every movement he makes, every awkward overture. 

He'll get there. This will help, Charles is sure of it. And he thinks that maybe he can help it along, just a little.

"How do you feel about going down the shore a week early?" he asks Erik near the end of their first week with Wanda and Pietro. They're in bed still--the teens are asleep and he can hear Lorna singing quietly in her room. She won't bother them until six-thirty, which is a rule they established as soon as she learned how to use her powers to get out of her crib at age two. They have a sliver of time alone that Charles is using to rub the tension out of Erik's back and float this idea by him.

"Why?" Erik asks. He turns his head out from his pillow to look at Charles, his eyes half closed.

"I think that...well, this is our house. Yours and mine and Lorna's," Charles says. "They're strangers here. And we own the shore house, yes, but it's...closer to neutral territory. It might be easier for them to find their footing, for _you_ to find your footing if you're not here."

Erik rolls onto his back and scrubs at his face with the heels of both hands.

"Do you think so?" he asks. It's strange to see Erik--normally gruff and dismissive and confident--so vulnerable. "I look at them and--" He sighs. _I feel guilty,_ Erik continues, eyes still squeezed tight. _I look at them and I look at Lorna and I see what they must see and I just feel like--the worst kind of deadbeat._

 _You can't have everything, my beloved,_ Charles tells him. _If you'd stayed with Magda for their sake, you'd both have been miserable and I never would have met you. We'd never have fallen in love, there would be no Lorna. You see your children once a week, at least, you go to all their sports and shows and events. You can't compare them to Lorna. You're doing the best you can._

Erik cracks his eyes open and looks at Charles.

"You're right," he says. "As much as I hate admitting it." He leans up for a kiss and Charles obliges. 

"It will be fun," Charles says. "Talk to your boss and see if you can arrange it. We'll do a month instead of three weeks. Lorna will be over the moon, and there are enough kids Pietro and Wanda's age in town that I'm sure they'll make friends. It's a good idea."

"It is," Erik says. He rolls back onto his side and then over again, until he's straddling Charles. "I love you."

Charles smiles, slow and still sleepy. "Well, it's 6:15, so you should either love me very quickly or wait until this evening and love me then." 

Erik laughs, as Charles intended, and holds him close, their foreheads pressed together in the early morning light, sharing breath, until they hear Lorna's excited footsteps going downstairs to turn on cartoons at precisely six-thirty.

"I'll talk to my boss," Erik tells Charles. "Tell the kids to start packing."

Charles smiles. A month at the beach, he thinks, is going to do them all a lot of good.


	2. sea monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erik plays the roles of sea monster, errand boy, good father, and awkward father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In reviewing this ficlet, I just noticed **pearlo** tried to beta the Jersey out of this chapter. I'm not so easily cowed.

The first full day down the shore, they leave for the beach early. Pietro takes the lead--rushing forward and then back to where the others are, with Erik and Lorna in middle and Wanda keeping pace with Charles as his muscles remember the slightly different movements required for the beach chair. She's a good girl, Wanda, and while Charles appreciates Pietro because he's Erik's son, Charles can't help but like Wanda as a person.

"You can go on ahead if you'd like," Charles tells her. "Your father won't let me lag behind for too long. He gets impatient." A half-lie. Erik is often impatient, but never over this, miraculously, despite thirteen years of tiny frustrations and setbacks and giving in to the whims of Charles' body.

"It's fine," Wanda says. "It's vacation, isn't it? It's good to take it slow."

Charles assumes she's avoiding her father, still smarting a little after the very loud argument over her bikini, which Charles thinks is not at all inappropriate. He's seen some of the things that girls her age wear at the beach, and Wanda's red two-piece is downright demure, comparatively. Still, Erik had decided that this was a thing he was going to have an opinion on and would not be shaken, even when Wanda started shouting back, demanding he let her have bodily autonomy. (Charles reminds himself to compliment Magda on her parenting skills when she gets back.) 

Charles stepped in eventually, defending Wanda's wardrobe, insisting Erik take a walk while the rest of the family prepared their beach gear, and silently offering Wanda a box of tissues to wipe her angry tears. Erik apologized upon his return, but it wasn't the best way to start their vacation.

They eventually make it over to their usual place at the beach. They're early enough that it's not very crowded yet, and before long Erik and Pietro have spread out their blankets and towels and umbrella. Erik manages to unfold Charles' lounge chair before Lorna's tugging on his leg to get him to take her to the ocean.

"Let me put your swimmies on first, love," Charles says to her.

"I'm a big kid now, Dada, I don't need swimmies," Lorna says, but she comes over and holds out her arms and lets him tug the inflated plastic rings over them, the remaining grease from her sunscreen helping to squeeze them over her elbows. In all honesty, the metal sewn into the neckline of her swimsuit is more comforting to him than plastic tubes he blew up himself, but he knows that if Erik just keeps her afloat constantly, she'll never learn to do it on her own. 

"Do you need anything?" Erik asks him, taking off his sunglasses and t-shirt and leaving them under the umbrella.

"I have my books." Charles tips his sunglasses down and gives Erik an obvious once-over. "I have a lovely view. I'll be fine."

Erik rolls his eyes. So does Pietro, who takes off towards the water in a flash of superspeed. Lorna tugs on Erik's hand again.

"Daddyyyyyy," she whines.

"No daddies here," Erik says. "Only...sea monsters!"

Lorna shrieks happily and runs off towards the water, with Erik on her heels making what Charles assumes are sea monster sounds. He tears his eyes away as they dash into the water and tries not to think about how badly he'd like to be the one chasing her. They're fleeting thoughts when they come, and he's surprised how domesticated he's become when he does choose to think about it. Immediately after the accident, all his wishes were selfish--to walk, to run, to do things for himself. Now it's all about Erik and Lorna, which he thinks must be progress of some sort.

Charles settles in with a book and so does Wanda, though she keeps looking out at the ocean. Erik and Lorna are running through the surf. Pietro is talking to a group of teens--familiar minds, Scott Summers and his brothers Alex and Gabe, townies whose father flies tourists out to the islands on weekends to take them on tours that capitalize on a local pirate legend. He'd hoped Jean Grey would put in an appearance--she's about Wanda's age, also a mutant, and one of the kindest girls Charles has ever met. Her family owns the house two doors down from theirs, and she sometimes babysits Lorna so Charles and Erik can steal a night out. He thinks she'll be a good friend for Wanda this summer.

The morning passes sedately enough. Charles plows through a nice chunk of his book while absently keeping tabs on his family. It's late in the morning when Lorna and Erik return from the water, dripping wet, skin tacky from the sea salt. Charles watches Erik move for just a few moments--it's really unfair how good Erik looks standing in the sun and dripping wet, unfair because Charles can't do half the things he wants to do to him until they find some privacy--and then moves all his books and papers to the side as Lorna approaches and climbs into his lap.

"Bug, you need to dry off first," Erik says.

"It's fine," Charles says. He smooths Lorna's hair back. "Are you having fun?"

She nods. "Daddy was a sea monster, and then _I_ was a sea monster and the water is really cold but it's nice and I'm hungry," she says. 

"It's a little early for lunch," Charles says. "How does the sea monster feel about some goldfish?"

"Yes, please!" Lorna says. 

Charles looks up at Erik and smiles.

"Darling," he says. Erik rolls his eyes. He's already put his sunglasses back on, but Charles can tell. "Could you fetch me some goldfish from the cooler? And an iced tea? And a juice box for Lorna?"

Erik sighs, but he crosses to the edge of their picnic blanket, where the cooler is holding down one corner, and pulls out two drinks and a packet of crackers.

"Uh, Wanda, would you like something?" he asks.

Wanda has been watching the whole exchange avidly while trying to look like she's reading her book.

"No," she says quickly. She holds up the can of lemonade she'd gotten earlier. "I'm fine, thanks."

Lorna digs happily into her goldfish crackers once Erik hands her the package and Charles fixes her juice box. She's still perched on his lap, and Erik has to slip his arms behind her to place his weight on the arms of the chair in order to kiss Charles. His lips taste like salt and Charles smiles.

"You're getting a little pink," Erik says, tapping the bridge of Charles' nose once he pulls back.

"Could you adjust the umbrella?" Charles asks. That, at least, he does without complaint, but when Charles adds, "And when you get a moment, could you run up to the concession and get us some napkins?" Erik lifts his sunglasses up to give Charles a look.

"Please?" Charles adds. 

_You're lucky you've got a great ass,_ Erik thinks, and Charles can't contain his snort of laughter as Erik trudges up the beach back towards the boardwalk.

He's not the only one watching Erik go. Wanda is frowning after him, and once he's halfway up the beach, she turns that frown on Charles.

"You can say it," Charles says, smiling kindly.

"How do you do that?" she blurts out. "Dad always calls people on their sh--stuff."

"Oh, darling, he calls me on it," Charles says. "He just does it for me anyway."

"Is this where you tell me that one day I'll understand?" she asks dryly.

"Yes, because you will," Charles says. "You're a very smart, very talented young woman and I have no doubt that you're self-assured enough to know what you want and find someone who loves you enough to want you to have it. Even if all you want at the moment is to have someone wait on you so you don't have to put up with the hassle of getting in and out of your wheelchair when you'd rather sit on the beach with your baby."

"I'm not a baby," Lorna says sleepily. "I'm a big girl."

"Of course you are," Charles says, kissing the top of her head. Her hair is stuck together in clumps and smells of the sea. With her bright green hair, she looks not unlike a mermaid. "But you'll always be _my_ baby." 

She scowls at that, and Wanda laughs.

"Thanks," she adds, quietly, sobering up. "For...this morning. I--um. I know he's your...your husband, but sometimes he's such a jerk."

"He is," Charles agrees. "He's a jerk to me sometimes, too. But it's only because...well, he loves you and your brother and he doesn't know how to show it. He thinks he doesn't know how to be a father to you, so he grasps at straws and stubbornly refuses to back down."

"He's a father to us just fine normally, I don't know why he suddenly has to be such a jerk this summer," Wanda says.

"Is he really, though?" Charles asks. Wanda looks at Lorna, obliviously drifting off on Charles' chest, and then looks away. "Look at this as an opportunity to get to know him better. And let him get to know you better."

"We'll see," Wanda says, pulling her knees to her chest. "Anyway...thanks for...thanks."

"Anytime, Wanda," Charles says. "Anything you need, just let me know."

"I will," Wanda says. Her smile is genuine when she picks up her book, and Charles hasn't even finished congratulating himself on successful step-parenting when a handful of paper napkins cascade down on his head.

"Napkins," Erik says.

"Thank you, my love," Charles says dryly.

"Do you need anything else?" Erik asks. There's a certain amount of sarcasm in his tone, but Charles can hear the concern underneath. 

"Not at this time," Charles says.

"Good," Erik says. "Do you want go out out where it gets deep, Bug?" 

Lorna mumbles sleepily and sucks on her juice box.

"I think someone wants a nap," Charles says quietly. _Someone else might be amenable, though..._ He tilts his gaze towards Wanda. 

Erik frowns at him. _I don't think she even wants to talk to me right now_.

 _Just try,_ Charles tells him. _I think you'll be surprised._

"What do you say, Wanda?" Erik says. His smile starts out nervous but becomes stronger once Wanda looks up at him. "Would you like to go out into the waves for a while?"

Wanda hesitates. She looks at Charles, who nods encouragingly. "Sure," she finally says. "I...yeah. Okay."

She puts her book down and gets to her feet. Erik reaches out automatically for her hand, then aborts the movement and awkwardly gestures towards the shoreline. They walk off together, warily eyeing each other, but Charles has a feeling this will be good for him.

He's _definitely_ good at this step-parenting thing. 

"Take a nap, precious, and when you wake up, we'll go get an ice cream," he murmurs, stroking Lorna's hair. It's going to spoil their lunch, but he thinks he's earned it today.


	3. old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which having teenagers in the house at night makes things awkward for everyone.

Lorna passes out around 8pm, which is around her beach usual - late enough that the sun has really started to set, but still early enough for Charles and Erik to watch a movie or the end of the sunset before they go to bed themselves. Having teenagers in the house, however, is putting a bit of a crimp in their routine. Wanda and Pietro would scoff at an 8pm bedtime and want to spend the post-Lorna evening hours watching the sorts of movies and television shows that are inappropriate for young eyes.

Which is all fine--Charles is still happy to have them and happy to spend time with them--except that he's getting old and staying up until midnight just to have sex with his husband feels a little excessive. Especially given that sex can already be something of a production--they've gotten used to it, over the years, to giving into the whims of Charles' body and planning their nights around what they can do rather than their fantasies, but the addition of a timing factor has made the whole thing even more complicated.

At least, during the evening. Right now? Sleep-drunk and heavy and buzzing distantly with arousal? Right now, Charles feels rather good.

"I love your freckles," Erik murmurs, nosing Charles' shoulder. "I love your freckles at the beach. I love how many of them there are. God, your skin--" He sucks on Charles' neck and Charles gasps and tries to keep quiet, keep his voice down, Lorna sleeps like the dead but there are two teenagers just down the hall.

"Take off your shirt," Charles says, tugging at Erik's t-shirt. "Take it off, for god's sake, after _taunting me_ all day--"

"Taunting you?" Erik asks with a sly smile as he sits up, straddling Charles' waist, and pulls his shirt over his head.

"Running around in the sun, half naked with those abs on display, being a perfect father and driving me _mad_ ," Charles says. He reaches out and runs his fingers over the muscles of of Erik's chest and stomach and allows his usual five seconds of gratefulness that this absolutely perfect specimen of a human being could want him despite everything that's happened since the accident before he pulls Erik back down and returns to the task at hand.

They try to stay quiet. Charles is actually proud of how quiet he stays when Erik sinks down onto his cock, how quiet he stays even when Erik bites the soft, extra-sensitive skin behind his ear, how quiet he stays when he can feel Erik's pleasure coursing through both of their minds. 

"Sssh, sssh, sssh," he whispers as Erik flexes his thighs and moves up and down, his arms wrapped around Charles. The shushing is perhaps counterproductive, given Charles can tell that Erik finds it unbearably hot, Charles trying to contain him and Charles tries not to give into that fantasy, into thinking about the other ways they can play with that, when--

Oh, fuck.

 _Stop stop stop stop,_ he tells Erik, and Erik, the picture of self-restraint and overwhelming care, freezes immediately. He makes to scramble off of Charles all together--it's not the first time Charles has stopped him in the middle of a sex act, and usually it's because of a cramp or something odd and complex with Charles' body--but Charles' hands clamped on his shoulders keep him in place.

 _Pietro is awake,_ Charles says. Erik blinks at him.

 _And?_ he asks.

 _And he's been awake for several minutes and he knows exactly what the noises he's been listening to must mean,_ Charles tells him.

Erik blinks again.

 _Fuck_ , he says.

Fuck is right. Because now that he's heard it, Charles can't block it out. Horrified thoughts, half-imagined images of the two of them together and outright shock that they can even _have_ sex with Charles in a wheelchair and they're both _old_ and _married_ and married people aren't supposed to have sex anymore, right? And, seriously, the wheelchair, he just assumed his dad wasn't into sex anymore or something because how does anything down there even work if he can't even walk? Telepathy might actually--oh _fuck_ he's a telepath his dad's husband is a _telepath_ and the noises have stopped and--

Charles pulls himself back into his own head. He knows he's blushing more from embarrassment than arousal. 

"What?" Erik whispers.

 _This...isn't happening tonight,_ he says. And they're back to the blinking. _If you had just seen your son's mental image of us fucking--_

The haste with which Erik jumps off of Charles is comical and the noise he makes when he drops back down onto the mattress is probably the loudest they've been all night.

"Exactly," Charles murmurs. Erik covers himself with a sheet, as though it's Pietro who's the telepath, and runs both his hands through his hair. He looks half-embarrassed, half-annoyed, and entirely flushed. He's still beautiful, but Charles can feel Pietro's horror from across the hall.

 _What do we do?_ Erik asks.

 _Attempt to go to sleep, I expect,_ Charles says. _And maybe find a time to send all the kids into town in the afternoon so we can be sure we won't be interrupted again._

If Charles can ever manage to have sex again, or even look at Erik while Pietro is in the room. Erik's current feelings on the manner seem to be similar. He moves slowly back up the bed, his erection almost entirely flagged now, and spoons against Charles' back.

"Well, fuck," he says. It summarizes the situation quite succinctly.

"Go to sleep, love," Charles tells him, although they both stay up, staring into the dark, for some time

***

Breakfast is...awkward.

Not at first, of course. Lorna wakes them with the sun, knocking on the door to the bedroom and demanding pancakes, insisting that they hurry so they can go to the beach.

"Calm down, Bug," Erik finally groans, wiggling out of Charles' embrace and rolling out of bed. "Let's let your dad sleep for a little while longer while we start breakfast."

Charles pulls Erik back for a good morning kiss that lingers in the early sunlight, then watches him cross the room and open the bedroom door. Lorna bounds in, climbs up on the bed to kiss Charles, and then jumps back down and grabs Erik by the hand, dragging him out towards the kitchen.

Charles takes his time going through his morning routine and joins them in the kitchen. They're each starting their first plate of pancakes when he notices the stirring minds in the other room. 

He tries to ignore it, focusing on cutting Lorna's pancakes into strips, but he can tell when both the twins are up and he can tell when Pietro drops the bomb on his sister.

Charles gives Erik a look over their plates.

The twins trudge in eventually. Charles stares at his plate. Erik clears his throat, but he can't manage to make eye contact either. Out of the corner of his eye, Charles can see that Wanda is blushing.

"Dada, can I have my pancakes now?" Lorna asks, and Charles manages a smile for her, passing the plate over.

"Chew your food," Charles reminds her as she goes to shove a whole strip of pancake into her mouth. "You don't want to choke."

That gives Pietro a rather crass thought, which makes Charles blush and which Erik seems to pick up by expression alone and then they're back into the awkward silence.

Charles tries to concentrate on his pancakes.

 _This is absurd,_ Erik thinks. _We're adults. We're married, consenting adults who have been together for over a decade, we're allowed to have sex in our own house!_

 _We absolutely are,_ Charles replies. _But your fifteen year old children are also well within their rights to be disturbed by the idea that you're having sex with someone who is both not their mother and a man. And someone with my level of paralysis at that. It's strange for everyone involved._

And Charles can sympathize with the twins, he can, he understands that this whole vacation is foreign to them, the life their father lives outside of their weekly visits is foreign, but he also spends an awful lot of time having to overhear thoughts that question his place at Erik's side and he really would rather not hear them in his own house on his bloody vacation.

He pushes his breakfast around. Beside him, Lorna sings the theme song to some cartoon and Erik stares into his coffee.

Erik puts his coffee cup down.

"We're not that old!" he finally says, tinged with desperation. "I'm thirty-eight! Charles is thirty-five! We're not old and we're certainly still interested in--"

"Oh good god, Erik," Charles says, covering his face with his hands. "You're their father, you don't have to--"

"And you're a very attractive man!" Erik says. "And my _husband_ and we're not _ancient_!"

Pietro hunches over his breakfast. Wanda's face is a brighter pink than the headband nestled in her curls.

"Jean invited me to go to the movies with some other kids our age!" she says hastily. Her voice is about two octaves higher than usual. "I told her I had to ask but it would be fun! Maybe Pietro can come too!"

"I want to go to the movies!" Lorna says. "And...and...I'm five and if Dada is thirty-five than that means he is thirty years older than _me_ and that's _a lot_."

"Very good math skills, darling," Charles says faintly. "You're not much helping the cause, though. Finish your breakfast. Maybe Daddy and I will take you to the movies later, just the three of us."

"I really like Jean, she's so fun and really cool and I'm glad you brought us here so I had a chance to meet her, I already added her on Facebook and she actually doesn't live that far away from Mom," Wanda continues, blushing harder the more she talks.

"We're happy to have you, Wanda," Charles tells her and forces himself to meet her eyes with a smile. She smiles back, hesitantly, and then looks away just as quickly.

 _He is pretty cute for an old guy,_ Wanda thinks, fleetingly.

"Dishes!" Charles announces, on the edge of hysteria. Erik and Pietro nearly slam into each other in their haste to be the first to the sink. Lorna starts singing again. Wanda continues to extol Jean's virtues while not actually looking at anyone.

It is, Charles thinks as he rubs at his temples in a hopeless attempt to ward off his oncoming headache, going to be a hell of a day.


	4. transatlantic call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magda calls to talk to her kids, and it's Charles who picks up, so they have a little heart to heart.

Charles is working at the desktop computer, trying to squeeze a little writing in while the twins are out and Erik is taking Lorna on a bike ride, when a Skype alert pops up. He glances at the time and frowns--it's later than he thought--and then hesitates over the "answer" button. Magda's about five minutes early and Pietro and Wanda aren't home yet. If he doesn't answer, she'll just assume they're not in front of the computer and try again in a few minutes, but something about that feels disingenuous. 

He clicks "answer," and the video screen pops up, revealing Magda's face.

"Oh!" Magda says. She's surprised to see him, but not displeased. "Charles! I was expecting my kids."

"They're out at the movies with some new friends," Charles says. "They should be home momentarily. I was just trying to get some work done while I had the house to myself."

"How's it going?" Magda asks.

"My work or a summer with your kids?"

"Both," Magda says, laughing. "Well, the second one, mostly. I can make a decent guess at how well work is going on vacation with a five-year-old."

"It's...good," Charles says, after a moment of consideration. "I think it's going well. We've hit a few snags, but I think they're having a good time, and Erik is getting more comfortable with the arrangement. Wanda's made some friends and...well, I feel like I'm getting to know her a bit better." Her brother, on the other hand... "Pietro's enjoying the beach," he says tactfully. "Lorna, is, of course, over the moon at being around the big kids."

As if summoned by use of her name, Charles hears the screen door open and slam shut, then, "DADA!" followed by the sound of little feet clamoring through the house to the downstairs office. Magda smiles indulgently as Lorna slams into the office and scampers to Charles' side. 

"Daddy says--" She glances up at the computer screen and freezes, suddenly shy, when she sees Magda. She curls against Charles' side, half-hiding her face against his shoulder. Charles pets her hair.

"Lorna, you know Magda," he says to her. "There's no need to be shy."

"Hello, Lorna," Magda says. 

"She's going to talk to Wanda and Pietro on the computer when they get back from the movies," Charles tells her. "Remember, like you and I talked to Daddy on the computer when he was in California before Christmas? Can you say hi?"

"Hi," Lorna says shyly, raising her hand in a wave. She sees Magda fairly frequently--probably about once a month--but they've not actually spent all that much time together. In his head, he equates Magda to an aunt or uncle. Lorna tends to act the same way around Raven whenever she first appears for a visit, though by the end they're always best friends again.

"Are you having fun at the beach?" Magda asks. Lorna nods and then presses her face back into Charles' arm.

"What did Daddy want you to tell me?" Charles asks her.

"That we can go get ice cream after Wanda and Pietro get home," Lorna whispers, standing on her tiptoes to say it in his ear.

"Okay," Charles says. "Why don't you go tell Daddy that Magda is on Skype and we'll go once the twins are done talking to her?"

Lorna nods and darts from the room without saying goodbye, already calling for Erik.

"She looks just like Erik," Magda murmurs.

"She does," Charles agrees. "Her coloring is a little different, but her eyes, the shape of her nose and face--"

"She already does that stubborn thing with her mouth that he does," Magda says. "I've seen it. Pietro does it too. It's weird, isn't it, that Lorna's going to grow up looking more like she's his sister than Wanda is."

"Genetically, I know why it happens that way, but I always suppose I've thought of twins as being...well, little clones of each other," Charles says. "Which is silly, but the only twins I knew in school were identical. Wanda and Pietro are so different in look and temperament."

Magda smiles wryly.

"You'd better believe it," she says. "I didn't miss that you're getting to know Wanda and Pietro is 'enjoying the beach.'"

Charles rubs the back of his neck. He feels guilty being called out, but he can't deny it. Wanda trusts him, likes him, occasionally confides in him. He and Pietro have barely exchanged a handful of sentences in the almost three weeks they've been living together.

"Pietro and I have different interests, it's harder to find common ground," Charles says. 

"Yes," Magda says dryly, "as his interests are mostly running and girls." It's uncanny how much she sounds like Erik when she says it. Erik tells Charles that he knows Erik better than anyone ever has, but even if he's going by Erik's word, he knows he's only barely won out over Magda, who was Erik's best friend practically since birth.

"Yes, there's that," Charles admits. "And--" He hesitates. Erik usually groups a third thing in with those hobbies, but it's different when it's your child, and Charles isn't sure he should--

"You can say it," Magda assures him. "I know how that ends. Erik and I do talk about our kids, you know."

"Running, girls, and being a dick," Charles says with a sheepish smile. This time, she laughs.

"He's fifteen," Magda says. "He hardly likes me and his father. No offense, Charles, but he's slightly less likely to like you. Think of--"

She stops abruptly and covers her mouth with her hand. Charles curses technology and distance--he can't read her from across the Atlantic, one of the many reasons he doesn't like Skype--it throws him off. He tries to follow her logic and gets to what he was like when he was fifteen. Except that wouldn't make her so embarrassed unless--

"Sixteen," Charles says. "I was sixteen when the accident happened. At fifteen, I was just as much of a dick as any other fifteen year old. Also, I'm rather sure my sister and Moira can attest to the fact that I was also rather dickish while I was in the hospital and rehab. Raven will swear up and down that I managed to be an ass while I was in a coma."

Magda smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear.

"Little sister's prerogative," she says. "I used to say the same thing about Erik."

"Erik actually _is_ an ass while he's sleeping, though," Charles says, pushing for another laugh, and he gets it, just as he senses Erik approaching. 

"Hey," he says, sticking his head in. Lorna is hanging off his arm. "Hi, Magda."

"Hi," she says. "Your kids are late."

"They still have a minute," he says, holding up his watch, analog, of course, because he relies on his metal sense to trace the path of the hands.

Lorna, meanwhile, is looking back and forth between Magda on the computer screen and Erik, frowning.

"Daddy?" she asks. 

"Yeah, Bug?" Erik says.

"If Wanda and Pietro are your kids, then why don't they live with us?"

They've been waiting for questions along these lines since the day Lorna was born. They've explained it piecemeal to her before--as the biological-via-surrogate child of a queer couple, she doesn't often see her family reflected in the world around her, and Charles and Erik have been sure to explain to her, in ways she can understand, why their family is special and that all families are different. Charles doesn't think she quite gets it yet, contextually.

Erik, though, seems to have decided that tonight isn't the night for these questions. 

"Because they live with their mom," Erik says.

"Oh," Lorna says. Then, "Why don't I live with my mom?"

"Because you live with us," Erik says.

Charles, Erik, and Magda are all watching Lorna as she digests this. Charles is holding his breath.

"Okay," she finally says. "When are we getting ice cream?"

Charles and Erik collectively sigh with relief. On the other end of the Skype connection, Magda laughs again.

"Soon, lovely," Charles says. "Once Wanda and Pietro--"

The screen door slams. 

"Sorry we're late!" Pietro bellows, "Wanda met a _boy_!"

" _Pietro_!" Wanda shouts.

"And she had to stay and talk to him until, like, 4:59 even though we're going out with them later--"

"Shut _up_!"

"Stop shouting!" Erik shouts out into the living room. "And come into the office, your mom's already on the line!"

"Ice cream now?" Lorna asks as the teens come thundering into the room, Pietro leading the way with a smirk as his sister blushes in his wake.

"Hi, mom," Pietro says.

"Mom, tell Pietro not to be such a jerk!" Wanda says.

"Both of you calm down and sit down," Magda says. "I haven't seen you in a week and I haven't held you in too long, so be quiet and let me look at you. My babies."

Charles quickly rolls out of the way so that Wanda and Pietro can pull over chairs. Erik puts his hand on Charles' shoulder and squeezes.

"Mom, I miss you so much," Wanda says. She glances over her shoulder. "I mean, I'm having fun, but I miss you _so much_."

"I miss you too, babydoll," Magda says. "Are you behaving for dad and Charles?"

"I haven't sold them to the child slavers yet, if that's what you're asking," Erik says. 

"You'll split the cash with me when you do, right?" Magda says.

"Mooom," Pietro says. "Don't, like, encourage him to be a dick to us."

"Watch your language in front of your little sister, please," Magda says. "And I'll encourage him to do whatever I'd like; someone has to counteract your attitude."

Pietro rolls his eyes. Wanda giggles. Lorna abandons Erik and climbs onto Charles' lap to whisper, "Dada, _ice cream_!" in his ear.

"Let's go in the other room and let Wanda and Pietro finish up on the computer with their mother," Charles says. "We'll go when they're done. Say goodbye to Magda, darling."

"Goodbye!" Lorna says. 

"It was lovely to speak with you," Charles says. "We'll talk again soon."

Erik opens the door for them and says, "Give me a call sometime soon, okay? Have fun in the mother country, Mags."

"Have fun down the shore!" she replies. "Eat a funnel cake or two for me. And some taffy. And--you know what, I'll give the kids a list."

They leave the office as Magda says to the twins, "Now, tell me all about this boy and all your new friends...." the rest cut off by the door swinging shut behind Erik.

"Ice creeaaaammm," Lorna murmurs, but Charles shushes her when Erik wraps his arms around Charles' shoulders.

"Did you have a nice talk?" Erik asks against Charles' ear.

"I think so," Charles says. "She told me not to sweat winning over Pietro."

"I've told you the same thing," Erik says.

"Yes, but sometimes it's good to hear it from someone who doesn't love me quite so much," Charles says. Erik squeezes him tightly and then kisses his ear.

"Come on," he says. He lets go of Charles and leans over to lift Lorna off of his lap. "Let's get our stuff together, so we're ready to go as soon as the kids are done, okay?"

"Ice cream!" Lorna cheers, and leads the way back into the living room. Charles and Erik follow, Erik's hand resting warm and steady on the nape of Charles' neck.


	5. hindered plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rainy day keeps them from the beach, but Erik manages to make the best of it.

The morning is grey when Erik wakes up, the sun fighting to cut through the cloud cover and ultimately losing the battle.

"The haze will burn off," Charles mumbles from bed, a pillow pulled over his face. They probably shouldn't have stayed up quite so late last night, but after the incident their first night down the shore, Charles will barely let Erik touch him until he's absolutely positive all of the kids are sound asleep. 

"I don't think so," Erik says, peering out the window. He shakes his head at the clouds and walks back to the bed. "The kids will be wanting breakfast," he murmurs, leaning down nuzzle the side of Charles' face not covered by the pillow.

"Don't care," Charles says. "Come back to bed." 

Charles loses the pillow and turns onto his side, his expression making a very good case for exactly why Erik should climb back into bed. Erik always thinks that Charles is gorgeous, but it's particularly evident in the mornings, when he's still half asleep and fuzzy and soft. Erik wishes he could bottle that look for the times when Charles is ignoring him in favor of work or being particularly arrogant and dismissive. Until that technology exists, however, he's forced to take it when he can get it, so he gives into his impulses and turns Charles over onto his back. He needs to turn over anyway, and in the last thirteen years, Erik has become incredibly adept at turning all of the physically and medically necessary movements into something intimate and personal and casual and normal. He ends the turn on a caress, a smooth stroke up Charles' side, then climbs back into bed and drapes himself over Charles' body.

"Hello," he says, and Charles kisses him slowly and sleepily.

"Isn't this better than making breakfast?" Charles asks. He wraps his arms around Erik and rubs his nose against Erik's stubble. That's enough to make Erik's skin tight and hot--the look Charles gave him before he got into bed was enough for it.

"I love your body," Erik whispers into Charles' ear. Charles sighs and arches his neck. The first time Erik ever said that to Charles, it was enough to derail the proceedings from a mixture of disbelief and anger that Erik was coddling him. It's true, though. Erik convinced him that night and has trained him well enough over the years to know that Charles' body drives Erik crazy, regardless of what parts work and when.

"Stop talking and kiss me," Charles murmurs, and Erik is more than willing to oblige when thunder rolls in, loud and long, off the ocean. They both pause in the ensuing silence.

"Well," Charles says as the first drops of rain loudly begin to fall against the windows, "this may hinder the day's plans a bit."

"Indeed," Erik says dryly, and pushes himself off of the bed with one last kiss.

***

They make do as best they can--Charles suggests going out for breakfast, and they head to Charles' favorite diner where they loudly squabble over food, Charles charms the waitress, Lorna gets an extra silver dollar pancake on her plate, and they tip incredibly graciously. After that, Wanda mentions she broke her sunglasses, so they hit up every tourist trap boutique on the main street, darting in and out of shops huddled under umbrellas to fend off the torrential rain. Charles hates leaving the house in the rain, and Erik is grateful when he follows Wanda without comment from shop to shop, until they decide it's time to go back home.

Charles is so obviously relieved to be back inside, that when he says, "Why don't we watch a movie?" Erik agrees without pause. The pause comes a few minutes later, when he's actually pulling out a dvd.

"You're going to fall asleep in five minutes," Erik says, holding up _Toy Story_.

"Nonsense," Charles says. "I love the _Toy Story_ movies."

"And I live with you and I'm telling you, you'll be out before the end of the first act," Erik says. "We could play a board game?"

"I want to watch a movie!" Lorna insists. 

Erik looks to the twins for help, but Pietro is playing his Nintendo and Wanda is texting.

"I like _Toy Story_ ," Wanda adds without looking up.

"Alright," Erik says with a sigh, and loads the dvd into the player before settling back onto the couch next to Charles, with Lorna curled up between them and Wanda on his other side. Pietro takes up the armchair next to the couch, sprawling across it.

Lorna manages to stay awake for twenty minutes. Charles is asleep in fifteen.

He lets them both sleep for a few minutes. Charles' head is against his shoulder and Lorna has her head on Charles' thigh and her legs sprawled across Erik's lap. Normally, there's nowhere else he'd rather be, but Wanda and Pietro are looking restless. He very carefully tilts Charles' head back against the couch, careful to keep him as comfortable as possible. He slips out from under Lorna and curls her legs onto the cushion he's just left vacated, then drapes an old afghan over the both of them. Wanda looks up from her phone, but Pietro's eyes remain glued to his DS.

"Do you want to watch something else?" Erik asks. He rolls his shoulders and hopes he doesn't look as awkward as he feels. "I assume anything with a G rating is agreed to in deference to Lorna."

"I like _Toy Story_ ," Wanda repeats, but she puts her phone down when Erik moves to the dvd cabinet. 

"Don't care," Pietro says, even as Wanda gets to her feet to join Erik, peering around his shoulder at the cases on display.

It's odd, having Wanda and Pietro here. Not quite uncomfortable, but strange and clunky, like it doesn't fit quite right on his skin. He loves his kids, all three of them, but he spends time with the twins on different terms. He doesn't love them any less than he does Lorna, but he's used to giving and taking that love under different circumstances. Fitting them into this life--he and Charles and Lorna and their home and their routine--has been difficult. He knows he compartmentalizes. He's not used to taking out so much at once.

On their weekend visits, when he sees them for birthdays and plays and sporting events, when he goes to parent-teacher conferences, things are easy. He knows how to talk to them. He knows all the steps to their interactions. All day every day for months at a time, though--he's struggling. He knows he is. He's scared of what they'll think of his life away from them, scared that they'll think he's not good enough as they see how he lives, and scared, most of all, that they'll think--that they _already think_ \--that Charles and Lorna are somehow a replacement, that Erik abandoned Wanda and Pietro and Magda to make a better family, when it's not the case at all.

He doesn't regret Magda's pregnancy or the birth of his children, and because of that he doesn't regret his marriage, but he does berate himself not infrequently for making such foolish, knee jerk decisions when he should have been old enough to know better.

"Oh, _Legally Blonde_!" Wanda says.

"No!" Pietro says from the armchair he's draped over. "Not that _again_!"

"I like that movie," Wanda says over her shoulder. To Erik she says, "I'm surprised you have it, though."

"Charles likes watching--" He almost says _stupid movies_ , but stops himself from insulting both his daughter's taste and a movie that was actually a lot more interesting than he first assumed. "--uplifting movies when he's tired from grading," he decides on saying. It seems to meet Wanda's approval. 

"That's cool," Wanda says. "I like movies with happy endings too. I like that one because it's not all about getting boys and stuff, you know? I mean, I guess it starts off that way, but then Elle really likes law school and is really good at it and...you know, it's not about winning back her boyfriend and he's actually kind of a jerk?"

Those are more or less the same reasons Charles cites for liking it. And he supposes it's good that his daughter enjoys movies where the lesson is that you don't have to chase a boy to be happy.

"Yeah," he says. "And, I guess there are worse reasons to go to law school. People find what they're good at for all different reasons." He mentally cringes after he says it--it's terrible and trite, like the kind of good advice that sounds sage on the surface but makes no sense when you pull apart the sentence.

"Did you always know you were good at computer things because of your powers?" Wanda asks.

"No, actually," he says. He hesitates, but they're fifteen now--soon they're going to be asking about college and all sorts of other things. They're going to find out sooner or later. "I studied political science in college," he admits. "I was accepted to law school right after your mom and I broke up, but, uh, when she got pregnant I ended up delaying my admission and then I took the IT job and it turned out I was good at computers. I liked my job, I was learning a lot, it paid well, so I decided to stay."

Wanda is quiet. Pietro looks up from his video game. 

"Didn't you--" Wanda starts to say, and then looks at the floor. Erik wishes they were sitting down. 

"I don't miss it," Erik says, taking his best guess at what Wanda is afraid to ask. "As Charles likes to remind me daily, I don't have the patience for politics. I really do like the engineering and computer things I do now. I've thought about going back and getting a master's in engineering, with Lorna starting school, but I'm happy where I am for now. And I never would have stumbled onto it otherwise. I never would have met Charles if I didn't take that job, and I would have missed seeing you two grow up." Wanda looks up at him again, and he adds, "All of that--no other job could have made me as happy as being around you and your brother and sister and meeting Charles. So, if anything, I have to thank you for keeping me from making a mistake."

Wanda smiles tentatively, and when he holds out one arm, she steps into his half-embrace. He squeezes her and remembers being twenty-three and terrified that he wasn't ready for this, staring down at the twins in Magda's arms and wanting to scream at the way his life was spiralling out of his control.

Fifteen years. Shit, it's been a long time.

"How about _Jurassic Park_?" Wanda asks when she pulls away.

"Pietro?" Erik asks, hesitating before he reaches for the movie.

"Yeah, sure," Pietro says.

Erik takes the the dvd out and crosses the room to stop the current movie and replace it. He likes _Jurassic Park_. He has a lot of good memories about it.

"Did you know," he says as he loads it in the player, "your mom and I saw this together in theatres? It was maybe a month before your grandparents died, so it was a couple months before we got married. We got out of the last day of high school before I graduated and went to the movies."

"Really?" Wanda asks.

"Well, it's an old movie and they're old," Pietro says. He's once again immersed in his DS. 

"We're not that old," Erik says. "And the movie's only...shit, twenty years old, maybe I am old. But yeah." 

Wanda curls up in the corner of the sofa and Erik sits next to her, careful not to jostle Lorna and Charles. He turns down the volume a little, wary of waking Lorna with dinosaur roars.

"Your mom likes scary movies, but it's because she scares easily and likes being scared," Erik says. "Mostly, she likes to watch them at home--well, back then at least. But I guess I talked her into thinking it wasn't a _real_ scary movie and she agreed to go. But there are a few parts--mostly when the raptors are stalking people--that scared the crap out of her and I might have...egged that along."

He smiles at the memory of tapping Magda on the shoulder at just the right points to make her scream and jump and generally leave all the adults around them grumbling about kids who should have been in school. He was a dick, but they both were. Nerdy, but pretending they were just too cool for the cool crowd, their friendship probably keeping Erik out of the more volatile mutant cliques. His parents were still alive, he had all of college laid out in front of him, and he was dating his favorite person in the world.

"I would have _killed you_ ," Wanda says.

"I'm gonna start doing that," Pietro adds with a wicked grin.

"Mom very nearly did kill me," Erik says. "She never learned. I did it all the time at home, too. Whenever she put on a scary movie, which was often."

"I think she probably liked it," Wanda says.

"I think you're probably right," Erik agrees.

"What else did you two do together?" Wanda asks, movie seemingly forgotten. Even Pietro is shooting glances over to them, even as he tries to pretend he doesn't care what they're talking about.

Erik and Magda have been separated since before the kids were born. Wanda and Pietro never knew them as a couple, as friendly and amiable as they are with each other, despite their divorce. He's surprised by Wanda's question, but maybe he should be surprised she hasn't asked sooner.

"Well," he says, "all kinds of things. We've been friends our whole lives."

"Can you tell me about it?" she asks.

Erik glances at Charles and Lorna, still sleeping peacefully, half his world wrapped together in an afghan. He looks back to Wanda and Pietro, the other half, the half he's trying to make more of an effort with because it's so, so worth it when he does.

He puts his arm around Wanda's shoulders and she leans easily against him like she hasn't since she hit her teenage years.

"I can," he says. "Of course I can. Mommy and I met at Temple when we were three or four years old, and by the time we started school we were inseparable." 

_Jurassic Park_ plays in the background until the dvd player shuts itself off when the movie ends, forgotten for the rest of the afternoon.


	6. date night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the kids spending the night with various friends, Charles and Erik get to indulge in their first childfree night in too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, thanks to **pearlo** ♥

"We'll be right next door, Bug," Erik says, brushing Lorna's hair back from her face. She bristles under the attention, one eye on Alice Grey, and nods fervently.

"I know, Daddy," she says. "If I get scared, I can come home!"

"Well, first you can come find me and your sister and maybe we can help you be less scared," Jean says, and Charles could kiss her. This is Lorna's first sleepover, heralded by the arrival of Jean's aunt and cousins earlier that morning. Alice is just Lorna's age and was immediately the source of Lorna's adoration, if only because she's Jean's cousin and Lorna loves Jean. It had been Jean's idea, actually. She and Wanda had been talking about the beach camp-out that Pietro was invited on with the group of boys they'd been spending the summer with. Jean suggested they have their own, and when Lorna and Alice overheard, she extended the offer to the younger girls as well.

Charles knows this is good for Lorna--a first sleepover in the backyard of their next door neighbor seems ideal. She'll be starting kindergarten in the fall, and sleepovers and playing over friends' houses will probably start to become more common as she gets to spend time with other children her age. She's growing up, and Charles refuses to allow himself and Erik to be the type of parents who baby their children and live in the past, but watching it is still hard.

But not so hard that he doesn't appreciate the Greys giving him and Erik their first night off in a long, long time. With Pietro at the camp-out and Wanda and Lorna next door, the house will be theirs until tomorrow.

Wanda is simultaneously relieved that she and Jean won't be alone and disappointed that she and Jean won't be alone. Charles feels for her and recognizes that this is only a taste of what he's going to go through when Lorna comes of age--seeing hints of her thoughts and feelings via telepathy, and forced to watch her suffer through them on her own, unable to broach the subject until she brings it up herself.

For now, he projects some innocuous affection at Wanda, stealthily plants it in her mind to soothe her confusion, and leans over to kiss Lorna.

"You'll be good for Mr. and Mrs. Grey, won't you?" he asks.

"Yeeeeesssssss," she groans.

"And for Jean and Wanda?" he prompts.

"Yeeeesssssss," she repeats.

"And if you need anything, you come next door and get us, darling," he says.

"I will," she says. She allows him to pet her hair one more time before she's finally off, scampering across to Alice, the two of them running off towards the house without looking back. Charles sighs as he watches them go.

But only for a moment.

"When he says 'come back if you need anything,'" Erik is telling Elaine Grey, "What he means is 'call or knock first.'"

"I imagined as much," Elaine says. "You two have a good night off!"

"We will," Charles assures her, and there's still a part of him, of course, that looks at this as another milestone, a sign that his baby is growing up.

Most of him, however, is focused on the long expanse of childless time that awaits them in their own house. No kids, no need to keep quiet, just the two of them and a few bottles of wine and a whole free evening.

It's been over five years since they were alone together in their own home. They've had nights away together--an overnight stay in the city or two, and last year, a week in London for a conference at which Charles was speaking--but this is the first time Lorna has ever spent the night away from home. It's the shore house and not the house in Westchester, but it's still their space, their things, their bed.

"I don't even know where to begin," Charles admits when they're sitting in the living room of their oddly silent house. "What did we do before we had Lorna?"

"Argued, had sex, drank heavily," Erik says. "The same things we do now, except back then we didn't have to wait until after nine to do them and we could swear more."

Charles snorts, but he smiles when Erik leans down to kiss him. It's slightly filthier than it usually is outside of the bedroom, though Charles, giddy with the knowledge that they can take their time, doesn't feel the need to drag it out any further, not right now. He gently pulls away when the kiss reaches its natural conclusion, and smiles up at Erik.

"Get the wine," Charles says. "Let's go out to the porch and watch the sunset."

The porch is situated on the east side of the house with a view of the ocean, so watching the sunset is a bit of a misnomer. They watch the sky turn colors instead, from blue to pink to purple. Erik rests his feet in Charles' lap, reclining low in his chair and sipping his wine as he stares more at Charles than the sky. He's thinking very flattering thoughts.

"I suppose we'll start to get more of these," Charles murmurs as he starts a proper foot rub. "Lorna will go to sleepovers and we'll have the night to ourselves to be a boring married couple."

"Mm, maybe a few more years before it becomes something outside of our next door neighbors," Erik says. He closes his eyes and sighs happily. "You're beautiful."

"Ssssh," Charles says. He presses his thumbs into the arch of Erik's foot. "That's just the wine talking."

"It certainly is not," Erik says. "When did you have your first sleepover?"

"Not counting camp...not until I went to college," Charles admits.

Erik cracks an eye open.

"Really?" he asks.

"Really," Charles says. "It was only Raven for a long time, then just Raven and Moira. Moira's parents were very traditional--no boys overnight, even if they were gay." Moira's very traditional parents are probably the reason why she's been living with a gentleman for over ten years and two children and has yet to marry him. But Moira's not the point of this conversation. "What about you?"

Erik opens both eyes and shrugs. "Magda's family and mine were so close that we were spending the night at each other's houses before we even started school. I had my first sleepover with other boys--my first sleepover party--when I was...maybe six or seven."

"Still," Charles says. "Not too far now. This could become a regular occurrence."

"Oh, and what, exactly, could become a regular occurrence?" Erik asks. He puts his wine glass back on the table. Charles smiles slowly and tugs his foot.

"Come here," he says, and Erik moves slowly, but with purpose, until he's sitting on Charles' lap, leaning down for a kiss. Erik is loose and relaxed and so comfortable and so happy and for a moment, Charles is transported back years and years, to the first time Erik crawled onto his lap without being asked, without being hesitant, without being afraid. He kisses Erik hard and holds onto him tightly and smiles against Erik's mouth because, god, they've come so far, and Erik still loves him and Charles loves Erik more every day.

They make out on the porch like teenagers until the sun sets almost completely. Erik reluctantly climbs off of him and they return to the house for a late dinner, still tipsy on wine and drunk on the undercurrent of physical affection, the electric jolt that Charles still feels when Erik's fingers brush against the back of his neck. Originally, they were going to do some sort of locally sourced fishsticks the kids talked them into at the market, but Erik reaches past them and pulls a collection of other ingredients out of the fridge. Before long, he's frying up crabcakes while Charles makes a salad and sings along to the iPod playing on the counter. 

"It always make me laugh, that your idea of seduction music is Stephin Merritt," Charles says.

"You made out better than Magda," Erik says. "In high school and college it was grunge and mutantcore. Queer, noisy synthpop is actually a step up." Charles chuckles and puts the salad on the table when Erik adds, "Besides, you have your sister to thank for that. It's her gag-gift gone wrong."

"Well, what were the odds you would actually like a band that she picked out entirely because it was a pun on your powers?" Charles asks. "Anyway, it's not a complaint, it's just something that makes me smile. Although it doesn't surprise me that you were into grunge. Not in the least."

"I actually cried when Cobain died," Erik admits as he transfers the crabcakes from the pan onto a plate. "I tried to hide it of course, behind my manly, stoic grimace, but it was just after spring break of my freshman year of college and I was sure my life was irrevocably changed."

"And people say _I'm_ the overdramatic one," Charles says.

"Hey, it was a tough time in my life," Erik says. "My parents were dead, Magda was still finishing up her last year of high school, I was completely on my own. There were two mutant groups on campus and neither of them felt right--one of them was hardline anti-human, the other was little more than a social club with no real desire to do anything political. I spent a lot of time listening to music, sneaking into the junkyard and destroying large objects, and writing angry screeds about my feelings that I promptly tore up."

"My poor baby," Charles says, but he keeps his tone light. It truly was a bleak time in Erik's life, and he can't make fun, especially given the way Charles spent approximately the same time period--miserable, depressed, re-learning how to move, afraid to leave the house.

"I persevered," Erik says dryly. 

He did. He started his own mutant political group the next year, one that allowed human allies to participate as well. He stayed on the dean's list for all four years, even when going through his divorce, he made important changes in the school's mutant policies and procedures. 

He would have been a brilliant mutant activist. He could have changed the world. Charles knows it's selfish, but he's very glad things didn't work out that way.

Dinner is strangely quiet without an influx of questions and stories from Lorna and the twins' constant arguments. They start a second bottle of wine and kiss in the conversational lulls as the alcohol burns through Charles' system and makes him feel warm and affectionate. They spend long minutes making out in the kitchen, revelling in the freedom of it, the fact that it's not even nine. 

When Charles begins to worry that Erik is getting a crick in his neck, he says, "Would you like to watch a movie? Is that what we used to do before we had a baby?"

"You watched terrible sci-fi and I watched terrible disaster movies," Erik says. "Mostly, I just want to put my hands on you. I can do that just as well on the couch."

He's really, incredibly glad that Erik didn't become a brilliant mutant activist.

Erik's hands on Charles' body take the form of a back rub, with Charles sprawled over his lap, half drowsing, half aroused, barely paying attention to the movie Erik's put on. 

"You think Wanda really has a crush on that Warren kid, or do you think Pietro's just winding her up?" Erik asks.

"Mm, yes," Charles says. "Mind, not as big as the crush she has on Jean."

Erik stops rubbing his back.

"Wait," he says, and Charles looks over his shoulder, only slightly disgruntled that Erik has stopped. "What?"

"Wanda has a tremendous crush on Jean," Charles says. "Can't you tell? I can tell without even reading her mind."

The warring emotions on Erik's face are hard to follow, so Charles dips below the surface and quickly shakes his head. He maneuvers himself onto his back and pushes himself up until he's sitting upright, half on Erik and half on the couch next to him.

"No, no, no," he says. "She's barely put a name to it herself. She's still trying to figure it out, I think. And besides, talking about those sorts of things with your father, even if he is married to another man, are always going to be difficult. It has nothing to do with you. She'll talk to you about it when she's ready, I'm sure."

Erik stares at him bleakly.

"But..." he starts to say. _I hadn't even considered,_ he thinks. _It can be so hard. I don't want anything to be hard for her,_ he thinks. _What can I do to help?_ he thinks.

He doesn't say any of it out loud, though. He doesn't project it to Charles, either, so Charles says nothing except, "It will be okay, Erik. Truly. Forget I said anything. It's our night off. Let's enjoy it, shall we?"

"I can't just forget it," Erik mutters. "How am I supposed to forget it?"

Charles rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around Erik's neck. He kisses him briefly, then pulls away. 

"I'll distract you," Charles murmurs. "I took a pill with dinner. I would like to have the kind of sex we don't get to have any longer for fear of tiny prying eyes. Is that enough to help you forget it?"

Erik gives a short laugh and presses his forehead against Charles'. He closes his eyes and Charles watches his face, watches the emotions that whip across it despite his closed eyes and set mouth. When they first met, Erik's inner thoughts were shut so tightly--not against Charles' telepathy of course, but his face was so frequently a blank mask when things got personal. It didn't help that Charles was twenty-two and terrible at telling what anyone was thinking without looking for himself. He's gotten better, but, more important, Erik has become so much freer with what he shows Charles, what he allows to show on his face in Charles' presence. 

Charles kisses the corner of his mouth and Erik pulls back, smiling wryly. 

"Let's find out," Erik says, and he buries his face in the crook of Charles' neck, kissing along his throat. "Can I take you upstairs?"

"I'm not wasting my first childfree night in five years fucking on the couch, so please do," Charles says.

"You're pretty hot when you're swearing," Erik says.

"So take me to bed and do something about it," Charles says. 

"Pushy," Erik says, but he gathers Charles close and kisses him, filthy and relaxed and dedicated enough that Charles decides that he's not actually in a rush.

They make it to the bedroom eventually, and Charles works diligently to put Wanda and Jean out of Erik's mind for the rest of the night. He'll have plenty of time to panic in the morning, after all.


	7. networking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles does a little vacation networking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny interlude while I work on the next story, which is going to be...really long. Written for **heyjupiter** who basically told me to do whatever in a meme about this project, so I wrote her a little mini-chapter with Howlett and Hercules from _X-Treme X-Men_ as guest stars.

They're most of the way to the restaurant when Charles recognizes a familiar figure standing outside the used bookshop.

"Go on," he tells Erik, slowing to a stop. "I'll catch up. I need to have a word."

Erik rolls his eyes.

"Of course you do," Erik says, but squeezes his shoulder and follows after the kids, already nearly at their destination. Charles rolls up to the sidewalk.

"James?" he asks, and James Howlett looks up from his phone and nods in acknowledgement.

"Charles," he says. He shoves the phone into his pocket. "I hate those damn things. Like the place can't run without me for two weeks. How've you been?"

"Busy," Charles says.

"I've heard," James says dryly. "You've been asking the kinda questions that make the people in my office nervous."

Charles smiles. "I like to think I keep you all on your toes," he says.

"Well, when one of the big names in mutant politics starts talking like he's gonna write a book about mutant education, the state goes a little nuts, yeah," James says. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and sticks one in his mouth, then goes through the lengthy process of lighting it. For all James looks a little rough and acts like he doesn't care, he didn't ascend as high as he did in Canadian politics purely by bashing heads together. "Are you writing a book about mutant education in New York?" he finally asks, giving Charles an assessing look.

"That depends," Charles says. "Do you want your people to stay on their toes a while longer, or do you want to know the truth?"

"I can keep them on their toes well enough on my own," James says. "Out with it."

"I'm thinking of opening a school," Charles says, after what he thinks is a suitably theatrical pause. James isn't the only one who can add a little style to his presentation.

James takes a long drag on his cigarette and then blows out a lungful of smoke, pinning Charles under a sharp gaze all the while.

"Huh," he finally says.

Charles smiles.

"Jamie!" James' husband, Herc, bellows from the doorway. "Do you have your wallet? I left--Dr. Xavier! Hello!"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Alcaeus," Charles says. "How are you enjoying your vacation?"

"It's wonderful!" Herc says. "Even though Kurt is reading us out of our fortune."

"I just finished all the books on my Kindle, that's all," Kurt calls out from behind Herc. He squeezes out from around his father, onto the sidewalk. "Hi, Dr. X."

"Hello, Kurt," he says. "Why don't you have one of your dads give me a call later this week and you can borrow some books from Erik and I, if we have anything you've not read. Erik's been doing an online course in electrical engineering and I think he might have the textbooks on his laptop."

"That would be _awesome_ ," Kurt says. He grins and looks up at James. "Can we?"

"Sure," James says. "It'll give the doc and I a chance to talk about some things."

He raises his eyebrows and Charles nods minutely.

"I look forward to it," he says. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I should catch up to Erik and the children. It was lovely to see you all."

"I'll be in touch," James says, and Charles smiles as he wheels away. Now, to have another conversation about this hypothetical school with Erik _before_ he has the New York Commissioner of Mutant Education over for dinner.


	8. a good day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik have a fight. Erik and Wanda have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last chapter for a while! I had a few more in mind, but time got away from me. I might revisit this verse in the future because I've grown to like it a lot and I have a lot of backstory rolling around my head, but I have a story I want to finish before Halloween and then it's going to be Secret Mutant time, so I'm going to be pretty busy. 
> 
> But this has been a really fun summer project and thanks to anyone who's been reading and enjoying :)
> 
> (For those of you reading this who may not know, Secret Mutant is an XMFC holiday fic and art exchange! Sign-ups run through October 13! [More details here!](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_2013/profile))

"Are we going to see Pietro at all this month?" Erik asks the table as he watches Pietro's retreating back, at a normal pace to keep up with the gaggle of boys he's abandoning them for again. 

"We just saw him!" Lorna says, more interested in deconstructing her fruit salad into parts.

"Am I really the only one who cares?" Erik asks. Wanda is texting, as usual, but when he looks to Charles to back him up, Charles is miles away. His expression is unreadable and slightly pinched.

"Pietro's an as--a jerk," Wanda amends quickly, eyes darting to Lorna as she pops grapes into her mouth one at a time. "Ever since high school started, he keeps like, trying to be ghetto or whatever. And, I mean, we go to one of the best public schools in the country, so, whatever, he's such an idiot. Like you and mom don't have really good jobs."

Erik nods, distracted and still staring at Charles. There's something wrong and he can't figure out what it is until Charles moves minutely in his chair and a wince flickers across his face.

"Do you have a cramp?" Erik asks immediately.

"I'm fine," Charles says through gritted teeth, but he doesn't move.

"Charles," Erik says. He definitely has a cramp, an occasional side effect of his injury, the result of sitting incorrectly or moving incorrectly or one of the hundreds of other things that can go wrong with Charles' body without him even realizing it. 

"Drop it, Erik," Charles says. There are tears in his eyes, though, and he twitches again, moves slightly in his seat, swallows hard.

"Don't be too stubborn to ask for help," Erik says.

"I'll be as stubborn as I bloody want to be and it's none of your business," Charles snaps.

"I can take you home--"

"I don't need to be looked after!"

Wanda and Lorna both look over at them, eyes wide and round. Charles jerks forward as he speaks and hisses in the immediate aftermath. The pain that flashes across Charles' face breaks Erik's heart. The fact that Charles is still refusing his help, though, leaves him strangely angry.

"Is everything okay?" Wanda asks softly.

Charles winces again, and then his whole body sags. He's pale and shaking and there are tears in his eyes, but Erik knows the pain has passed.

"I'm fine," Charles assures her through the wobble in his voice. He turns to Erik. " _Fine_."

"Dada?" Lorna asks.

"Don't worry, darling, I'm okay," he says. Lorna is still frowning at him, her lower lip wobbling with concern. Erik swallows hard watching it. Fuck fuck fuck, he can't even take care of his family, can he?

"Let me--" he starts to say.

"I said that everything's fine!" Charles all but shouts at him.

"It's obviously not!" Erik shouts right back because they always do this--escalate stupid arguments because they're both too stubborn to be wrong and Erik is torn up inside at the thought of Charles in pain, but burning with fury over Charles' inability to admit he's fallible.

"Well, maybe I don't want to shout about it in front of the children, _Erik_!" Charles says.

"If you would for once in your goddamn life ask for _help_ when you need it!" Erik hisses in deference to their audience, as if Wanda and Lorna can't hear him clear as day.

"I don't. Need. Help," Charles says through his teeth. _I do not. Want to continue. This conversation,_ he says sharply into Erik's mind, leaving a ringing sensation behind him. Erik winces. 

Wanda clears her throat and looks away, blushing with secondhand embarrassment. Erik watches her out of the corner of his eye, then glances at Lorna, who's sucking her thumb and staring at them with huge eyes. Fucking hell, Charles drives him crazy, but he's right, this is accomplishing nothing.

"Jean!" Wanda says quickly. "Hi!"

"Hey," Jean says, approaching the table slowly. "I was just going to come over and say hi, but if it's a bad time--"

"It's fine," Charles says with a sigh. "It's lovely to see you, Jean. We were just-- _shit_."

Erik turns quickly from Jean. Charles is wincing and covering his eyes.

"You have to put a dollar in the swear jar," Lorna says promptly.

"Charles?" Erik asks, although he already has an idea of what's wrong, and he can't stop the suffusion of guilt that maybe he had a hand in it.

"The bloody cramp triggered a bloody migraine," Charles hisses, confirming Erik's suspicions. Erik lays a hand between Charles' shoulderblades. "I'm getting the aura already."

"Let me take you home," Erik says quietly.

Charles sighs.

"Fine," he says, dropping his hands in resignation. "Fine, yes."

"Um, I'm babysitting Kitty Pryde today," Jean interjects. "I'm going to pick her up in a minute. I could take Lorna too?"

"Could you?" Charles asks. "That would be spectacular, Jean. We'd pay, of course."

Lorna looks between Charles and Erik, frowning once again. She's stopped sucking her thumb at least, a habit they've mostly weaned her from a year or two ago, but one that crops up when she's upset or nervous.

"You know," Erik says. "Kitty is Jewish, just like we are."

Lorna has had a distressingly limited exposure to other kids her age. Her all-mutant daycare class is small and she only goes three days a week. Wanda and Pietro are the only other Jewish children she knows, and though Erik doesn't exactly practice any longer, he still trips his way through the major holidays for her sake, in addition to Charles' firmly atheist Christmas celebration. 

"Really?" she asks.

"Yep," Erik says. "I bet you'll have a great time. I'm gonna take Dad home and then I'll see how you're doing, okay?"

Lorna looks back and forth between Jean and her parents.

"Okay," she finally says. She stuffs two more grapes in her mouth.

"Be careful you don't choke, lovely," Charles says. "And come here and give me a hug before you go."

Lorna obliges, climbing onto Charles' lap where he hugs her fiercely and kisses the top of her head. Erik wonders if Charles is projecting his emotions--sharp and suffocating love for Lorna, mixed with a fathomless shame and disappointment--or if they're Erik's own feelings watching the scene.

"My baby," he murmurs. "I love you so much."

Lorna allows the affection and then jumps down and takes Jean's outstretched hand. 

"I'll call you in a bit, Jean," Erik says. "Thank you so much."

"It's really no problem," Jean says. "Wanda? Do you want to come?"

Wanda bites her lip and then glances at Erik. "I think I'm going to stay and finish up my breakfast," she says. "Maybe I can meet up with you later?"

"Sure," Jean says. "Text me!" She smiles and Wanda smiles back and Erik reminds himself that he has to deal with one crisis at a time and says his goodbyes to the girls, then directs Charles' chair swiftly towards the house.

They don't talk on the short walk back. Charles covers his eyes with his hands and makes no move to communicate, and Erik sees no reason to continue to argue while Charles is in pain and while they're whipping down the streets fast enough to make conversation incomprehensible. He still wants to rip Charles a new one for--well, he's not sure why he needs to shout, only that he needs an outlet for the excess of adrenaline and Charles' stubbornness drives him mad. 

Charles doesn't look at him as Erik helps him into bed and fetches the triple-strength painkillers that he takes for his headaches. He's angry, though, and while everything in Erik wants to fuel that anger, wants to make Charles mad enough to give Erik reason to shout, Erik restrains himself, swallows it down, and forces himself to be gentle in his movements. 

"I'm so mad at you I can hardly think," Charles finally says, hand over his eyes. "Come here."

Erik considers, for a moment, resisting. He considers staying exactly where he is and telling Charles he'll check back later. He wants to be angry but, at the same time, he hates when they leave each other on bad terms.

He lies down on the bed and turns on his side so he can look at Charles.

"I can take care of myself," Charles finally says. He lifts his hand and turns so he's looking at Erik again. "I can manage my own body. I appreciate the help you offer, but it needs to be on my terms and certainly not as a shouting match in front of our children."

This is an old argument. He thinks it's an argument they'll have up into their eighties.

"But you don't," Erik says. "You don't ask for help when you need it. You can't fault me for wanting to take care of you when you're in pain. I love you."

"I can and I do," Charles says quietly. "My terms, Erik."

"Then you need to broaden your terms," Erik says.

"It's my life and I'll live it how I please," Charles replies. He pushes the blankets down far enough that he can get his hand out and takes Erik's in his own. "I'm not doing anything risky. I know what I can and can't handle. And I think it's especially irritating that you'll walk around with a broken rib for a week before you'll go to the doctor, but we have these arguments when it comes to my health. You don't like seeming weak either."

"Asking for help doesn't make you weak," Erik insists. 

"I'm starting from a less forgiving baseline of what weakness looks like," Charles says. "And regardless of how you feel about anything, shouting about it in front of Lorna and Wanda was an awful thing to do. I can't help but think that, given you had telepathy at your disposal, it was done in an effort to guilt me into doing what you asked."

Erik hopes that the blunt, sharp arrival of shock is enough to convince Charles that the thought never crossed his mind. The accusation stings and he can do little more than gape.

"Nevermind," Charles says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Just--please, let's not have a repeat. Ever again, but at least for the length of the trip?" He closes his eyes. "I don't want to be angry with you and I'd quite like to be asleep before this migraine hits properly, so can we table this until the afternoon?"

"Fine," Erik says. Arguing with Charles is so often useless anyway. He leans over to kiss him. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I love you," Charles says. "You drive me mad, and sometimes I want to hit you, but you're half of the best part of my life."

Erik kisses him again and brushes the hair off of his forehead.

"I love you too," he says. "I'll see you later."

It feels strange leaving the argument unresolved, but it's probably the skill he's worked on the most since marrying Charles. He and Magda had a somewhat passive-aggressive, probably unhealthy way of putting arguments to rest by "giving in" without really giving in. Charles insists on talking things through until they reach an impasse they can acknowledge and compromise around. Sometimes it takes days or weeks, but he also insists that they never go to sleep alone because of a fight.

It can get awkward, but it's just compartmentalizing, which Erik does in every other facet of his life, and it's not as strange now as it was five, ten, thirteen years ago, even if his body is exhausted now that there's no outlet for his excess adrenaline.

He walks back to the cafe, where Wanda is still sitting at the table, sipping her orange juice. 

"Is Charles okay?" she asks when he sits down at the table across from her. Charles, Lorna, and Pietro's plates have been cleared away, but Erik finds he has no interest in the remains of his eggs and toast.

"He'll be fine," Erik says. "The telepathy makes him sensitive to migraines. He's used to it. He knows what to do." 

Wanda nods, though she won't quite look at him. 

"I'm sorry," he adds. "We shouldn't have argued like that in front of you and Lorna."

"It's okay," Wanda says. "People fight. I'm not a baby. It was just weird, that's all. And you guys never seem to fight."

Erik holds back a bark of incredulous laughter. _We fight constantly_ probably isn't what she wants to hear, even though what they normally do is more akin to vigorous bickering and certainly none of it is indicative of the strength of their relationship. Instead, he says, "So, do you want to go meet up with Jean and the kids?"

"I don't have to," Wanda says vaguely, looking down into her juice. "We could always...um...do whatever it was we were going to do before everything happened. Just me and you. I mean, if you don't need to--you probably need to go home and make sure Charles is okay."

He can practically hear Charles' voice in his head telling him not to screw this up.

"No, he'll be fine," Erik says. "He took some medicine and he'll probably sleep it off. What did you have in mind? Do you want to go down to the beach?"

Wanda shrugs.

"Whatever," she says, and Erik scrambles for other things to do. 

"We could...take a walk to the lighthouse," he suggests.

That piques her interest.

"It's open to the public?" she asks.

"Yeah," Erik says, after a quick mental review of the last time they were there--he didn't break them in because it would be romantic, they definitely paid a couple bucks for the experience. "I think it costs a couple bucks to get up there, but the view is really spectacular."

Wanda smiles.

"Okay," she says. "That could be fun."

Erik smiles back and hopes, desperately, that he doesn't screw this up.

***

After the check is settled, they go first back to the house to pack a bag--sunscreen, sunglasses, and water bottles all go into Wanda's ridiculously large purse. Wanda changes out of flip-flops and into sneakers, and Erik peeks into the bedroom to check on Charles, who's thankfully sound asleep. He comes back downstairs and find Wanda fidgeting by the front door, and takes comfort in the fact that she's at least as nervous as he is.

He loves Wanda and Pietro. He's done his best to be there for them as they grow, even if they don't live in the same house. He's never missed a school play or a soccer game or an art show, and he'd like to think he has as good a relationship with them as any other father. Things are different with the addition of Lorna to his life, however, and he's hyperaware of how he acts around her in comparison to how he acts around the twins. Half of that is age--he chased Wanda and Pietro around the beach and sat in their pretend classrooms and watched their fake magic shows (or, well, real in Wanda's case) when they were five as well. The other half, though--he puts Lorna to bed every night and wakes her up every morning. He does her laundry and cooks her meals and takes her to appointments and preschool and playdates. 

And on top of all of that baggage, he doesn't know that he's ever really spent time with Wanda without Pietro. She's fifteen, she's into music and television shows and actors and hobbies that make it seem like she's speaking another language half the time. But she's his daughter and he loves her and he's going to do this thing--spend a day with her, doing whatever she'd like--if it kills him.

"Have you got your new school schedule yet?" he asks as they wander up the street towards the lighthouse, looming over the island in the distance.

"No," she says, sighing. "I'm not too worried because I know Ms. Harkness teaches pre-AP pre-calc, and that _would_ have been my biggest worry because she's totally the best, _and_ Jan says that Hank said that it's nearly impossible to follow her AP Calc classes without having her for pre-calc. But other than that, I think most of the sophomore teachers are good. I just really hope I get some classes with my friends. Jan tested into pre-calc too, but it's a small class and I think we'll probably be the only girls."

Erik thinks this would be a good place for a rant about society's tendency to discourage girls from STEM fields, but instead he says, "I'm glad you like math. And, to be a dad for a minute, it will open a lot of doors for you once you graduate college." The fact that her mother has tenure at a well-regarded university, her father works for a prominent technology firm, and her stepfather's wealth exceeds that of some first world nations will probably also open a lot of doors for her. But self-reliance first, nepotism second--he made Charles swear to hold him to that, as he knows he'll probably crumple like a wet paper bag the first time Wanda gets rejected from a job she applies for.

"Yeah," she says. She shrugs. "I mean, I started getting into it because of probability and wanting to learn more about my powers, but it's really cool. And, I mean, math is the building blocks of the universe, so knowing all about how the universe works will totally help me with my powers too, right?"

"Definitely," Erik says. 

The walk up to the lighthouse is pleasant enough, and not too long. It's only a few miles, and before long they're looking out over the expanse of the island. It's pleasant--the wind whipping against them, the smell of sea and salt, the sound of the gulls and the children playing below, and Wanda leaning against his side. He thinks, at least in this moment, he's not as terrible a father as he sometimes fears.

"How far is it to the other end of the island, do you think?" Wanda asks.

"It's about eighteen miles," Erik says. "I ran most of it once maybe...six or seven years ago. Before Lorna. It just seemed like a nice day for it and Charles and I had been arguing about something stupid and I wanted to get out of the house. He drove to the end and picked me up when I finished."

"That was nice of him," she says.

"He's a nice guy," Erik says.

"Do you...fight a lot?" she asks. "I've never seen you fight before today."

"We...bicker," Erik says, staring up at the sky and turning the question over in his head. "We have very different outlooks on life. We look at things from opposite points of view in some ways. We debate and pick at each other's decisions. Sometimes it turns into full-on arguments, yeah, but we're used to it. It's how we are. In our own ways, ignoring problems makes us both uncomfortable, so we try to reach a solution sooner rather than later."

"That's smart," she says. "I'm a lot better at pretending to ignore a problem than I am at speaking up about it."

The silence is heavy and Erik knows he should say something, but he has no fucking idea what it could be.

"Where to next?" he finally asks her, defeated, but trying to sound upbeat.

"I don't know," she says. "We could just walk until we see somewhere to stop for lunch or something?"

"Sounds good," he says. "Let's head back down."

***

They walk slowly, with no real drive to get anywhere in particular. Erik waves absently to people he recognizes, stopping once to have a half stilted conversation about a party someone was throwing that Charles apparently knew all about and Erik could only half-convincingly lie his way through. Mostly, though, he follows Wanda's lead as she loops down the main street, closer to the beach, and in and out of the side streets.

"I wish Pietro liked school more," she says as they walk along the shore.

"He seems to be doing okay," Erik says.

"Yeah, cause he takes all, like, basic or college-track classes," she says. "He could totally be in AP-track if he actually _tried_ , but some time between middle school and high school he just stopped caring. I feel like we don't have anything in common any more. He's so into sports and things. The cross-country coach is even going to talk to the state to see about creating a set of rules that would let him compete in running stuff too. We used to watch the same television shows at least."

"I'm sorry, honey," Erik says. _I think Pietro's been a little shit recently, too_ probably wouldn't be good parenting, after all. 

"Oh, head's up!" shouts someone from down the beach, and Erik looks up in time to see a frisbee headed in their direction. Before he can reach up to catch it or dart out of the way, Wanda raises a hand and it abruptly changes trajectory, back towards the boys who threw it. He holds his breath, but the boy who shouted just adds, "Cool, thanks!"

Erik glances at Wanda. She's beaming.

"Good job," he says. "That was fast!"

"I know!" she says. "I'm usually not that fast! I have to concentrate really hard, but that was just like...natural!"

"It should be natural," Erik says. "It's a part of you. It requires some amount of concentration, but it should be instinctive. If you're trying too hard, something's wrong."

Wanda shrugs and looks away, shoving her hands in her pockets. "My counselor at school is always saying I need to concentrate more, but he also doesn't really get my power, you know? He acts like it's the same thing as like, telekinesis, which it's _not_." She sighs. " _I_ don't even get it sometimes."

His first instinct is, of course, to insult the counselor, the program, the school, and the New York Department of Mutant Youth Services. He manages to control himself, but just barely.

"That's bullshit," he says. "It's utter crap, Wanda. I went through the same thing in high school--no two mutations are alike and there's no reason your counselor should be trying to force you to use some method that obviously isn't natural for you. It took me years to unlearn the backwards ways my instructors tried to get me to access my powers, and it kept me from reaching my full potential. There's nothing wrong with you--you'll figure out your power as you go. Not everything is as cut and dry as superspeed. Until Lorna was born, I'd never met anyone else who could manipulate magnetic fields."

"Really?" Wanda asks.

"Really," Erik assures her. "I can ask Charles if he knows anyone who can help if you'd like. He's got his fingers in every mutant youth and education social circle in the state. He's the one who helped me break out of my bad habits and fully access my powers."

"Charles is pretty cool," Wanda says. She's smiling and her shoulders aren't nearly as tense now.

"He is," Erik says.

"Mommy really likes him too," Wanda says. "Has she--I mean, have they always been like that? Friends, I mean?"

"Mm, mostly," Erik says. It was awkward at first for many reasons, one of which was the fact that Charles was a man. Erik’s sexual history is complicated, his relationship with Magda has always been complicated, and dealing with his sexuality in 1995 was complicated as well. It's the one thing he and Magda never talked about, not after their first conversation about it the summer that Erik confessed it to her secretly in the dark. He'd thought at the time it wouldn't matter--he'd marry Magda, obviously, and then what would anyone care if he sometimes thought of men when he jerked off?

His life hadn't turned out that simple, unfortunately, but he adjusted and Magda adjusted and she certainly never held it against him. Still, it's not the narrative he wants to be talking about with his teenage daughter, nor was it quite the question.

"It was a little weird at first," he continues. "The first time Charles ever met Mom, it was sort of, uh, a surprise. I had a meeting in the city and I got stuck in traffic coming home. This was pre-cellphones, sort of. I had one for work, but not everyone had one yet and your mom was already on her way to my apartment. I didn't want her to panic when I wasn't there, so I called Charles and asked him to go over and meet her. We'd only been dating...maybe six months. And he freaked out a little."

"Charles doesn't freak out," Wanda says.

"Trust me, baby, Charles freaks out," Erik says. "He was also twelve years younger than he is now and nervous about meeting you two and Mom and even more nervous since Mom didn't know he was going to be there."

"But he went anyway?" Wanda asks.

"He did, yeah," Erik says, and he can't help but smile at the memory of Charles on the phone, his voice high and panicked, but utterly determined not to let Magda think for even a second that Erik was blowing her off. "They were both pretty unnerved, I think, Mom especially. She was caught by surprise and I think hearing I was dating someone versus seeing it first hand--and, uh, I hadn't mentioned that Charles was in a wheelchair. And he looked--well, he looks young now. He was _babyfaced_ back then. It was weird all around. But they worked through it. You guys were important to both of them and they got to know each other and became friends."

"And you're important to them," Wanda points out, smiling.

"Yeah," Erik says. "That too." He offers her a smile back--awkward but genuine--and then points at a tiny cafe selling pizza. "You wanna walk back into town or is this good for lunch?"

"Pizza is _always_ good," Wanda says. "I'll get a table!"

They've managed to skip the lunch rush--it's after one already--but there are still two people ahead of Erik as he gets in line to order. That turns out to be a good thing when he feels the tell-tale warmth at the back of his head that means that Charles is beckoning for admittance. 

_You're awake,_ he says, and that warmth floods his whole head and drains down into his body as well.

_Mmhm,_ Charles says.

_Feeling better?_ He doesn't seem angry, at least, which Erik takes as a good sign.

_Much. Fuzzy, but better._

_I'm glad,_ Erik replies. He pauses just for a moment, because that's all he can manage in these telepathic conversations. It's hard to hold back, to think too hard about what he wants to express, with Charles in his head. It's not precisely like speaking, in that way. Not precisely like projecting either, sending a thought to a telepath who isn't necessarily hanging out in your consciousness. No, talking to Charles when he's in Erik's mind is more like redirecting his thoughts slightly to the right. He's gotten used to it and he knows how to shut away the things that aren't for Charles' eyes, but there have been fewer and fewer of those things as time goes on. 

_I don't want to undermine you,_ he tells Charles. _I don't want to disrespect you. I just..._ He closes his eyes momentarily. _I don't want to see you hurting, not if I can help it._

When he opens his eyes, he's moved one space up in line and he feels Charles' heart aching.

_I know, darling,_ Charles says. _I know. I shouldn't be so stubborn. But it's my right._

_And I know that. I shouldn't have shouted in front of the kids,_ Erik replies.

_You shouldn't have. I'll try to be better about asking for help when I need it, but you need to trust me. That's the heart of this._

Erik wishes they were doing this face to face. He rubs the heel of his hand against his forehead.

_I do,_ he swears. _Charles--of course I trust you._ He swallows and steadies himself. _I'm getting better, aren't I?_

_You are,_ Charles agrees. _You are. Of course you are. And I like to think I'm getting better at asking for help when I need it._

_Yeah,_ Erik says, though he thinks Charles could still stand to improve there, much as he's sure Charles would like him to get even better at minding his own business where Charles' health is concerned. 

_How's your day been, then? I've not ruined it, have I?_ Charles asks.

_Never,_ Erik says. _It's just me and Wanda and...it's really good. It's great, actually._

The man in front of him on line steps away, and Erik steps up to the counter to place his order, trying not to lean back into the warmth of a phantom embrace. It wouldn't be the stupidest thing he's ever done in public thanks to Charles' telepathy (he once hopped out of his car in a convenience store parking lot and had half an argument out loud, screaming at the top of his lungs, which was fun to explain to the concerned police patrolman on the corner), but he tries to avoid making a scene when he can.

_I'm glad,_ Charles says.

_She has a lot of nice things to say about you,_ Erik tells him once the man at the counter darts to the back to start pulling together their order. 

_I'm glad about that, too,_ Charles says.

Erik thinks their argument is probably over--if he was home, he'd be on Charles' lap or at least curled up next to him. As it is, he slips in an absent sort of affection, one that he allows to fill his mind as he loads a tray with his lunch order and heads back to the table where Wanda is waiting.

"Lunch," he says to her.

_I think I'm going to go work on my book for a bit,_ Charles says to him.

"Cool, thanks," Wanda says. She pulls a piece of pepperoni off of her pizza and pops it into her mouth.

_Okay,_ Erik says to Charles. _Let me know if you need anything. I'll let you know when we're headed home._

"Dad," Wanda says. "When I asked before, if Mom was okay with Charles...I mean, was it weird for her because...because he was a guy?"

She's staring intently at her pizza. Erik almost chokes on his.

"Uh," he manages to say.

_Careful here,_ Charles murmurs into his brain. _I think she's asking with regards to her own burgeoning sexuality and while I know it_ was _complicated to Magda because I was a man, perhaps tread lightly here._

_I'm not stupid,_ he responds, and clears his throat.

"Uh," he says out loud. Wanda is looking at him, though she's obviously trying to seem disinterested. "I think, really, it was weird for her to see me with anyone else, period. I hadn't really dated anyone besides her before we were married and I didn't date anyone besides Charles long-term afterwards." He thinks that's a good way of phrasing, 'I had a lot of one-night stands and no fulfilling emotional connections outside of you two and your mother.' "It would have taken her some time to get used to anyone new, just like it would probably take me some time to get comfortable with anyone she decided to marry."

Wanda nods and goes back to her pizza, but he has a feeling that the conversation isn't over.

_It's not,_ Charles confirms. Then, quickly, _I'm not snooping, she's just radiating anxiety over the topic. It's not at rest yet._

_I wouldn't think you were,_ Erik says. Not that Charles rooting around in Wanda's head to tell him what he should say would be unwelcome at this point.

Charles mentally shushes him.

"So," Wanda says after what feels like several hours of silence, "you and mom didn't get divorced because you were gay?" Her eyes flick up at him and then back down at her plate and she adds, "I mean, I know that...I know people can be bisexual, but Pietro always says--I mean, it's not a big deal, obviously, I don't care, I just--" Her cheeks are stained bright red and Erik wants nothing more than to put them both out of their misery and change the subject.

_Don't do that,_ Charles advises. _Just be patient and calm. This is going to be good for her._

_Says the man_ not _having this conversation with his daughter,_ Erik says.

_It will be good for you, too,_ Charles tells him.

"Uh," Erik says. "No. Not really. I...told your mom, when we were in high school, that I thought I might be bisexual. So she sort of knew it was a possibility. Not that we would break up, but that once we did--" He rubs his face with his hand. Between his fingers, he can see Wanda peeking up at him. "Let me start over," he says, folding his hands on the table. "Mom and I divorced because we realized we didn't love each other the way married people should love each other. We didn't stop loving each other, we just realized that it didn't fit the way it should. We didn't want to be a couple as much as we wanted to be best friends. Mom actually kind of encouraged me to, ah, try dating men."

In the early days, Erik thinks Magda did blame his sexuality on their divorce. Not maliciously or even angrily, but the concept of "bisexual" didn't sit in her head exactly right. It was 1998, though, and, culturally, things were a little bit different. Over time, she became more accustomed to the idea, and even when she thought he was gay, she never held it against him. It did, however, serve to confuse Erik even further. He was shaky on the concept of bisexuality himself, confused about who he was and what boxes he fit in. He had never before been shy about any part of his identity--his Judaism, his mutation, his roots, any of it. And he wasn't shy, exactly, about sexuality, but he was afraid to talk too much about something he couldn't entirely define.

He met Charles and it stopped mattering for a little while--he was with Charles, people made certain assumptions, and he didn't have the energy to correct them. It still niggled, but he had Charles to help him unpack it all, plus two, three, five, ten more years behind him to put it in perspective.

He doesn't call himself bisexual, now, unless anyone asks, but only because he doesn't call himself anything. There are many aspects of his identity, each with their own collection of assumptions and politics. This is one that's not necessarily important to him, in the long run.

He can't vocalize all of that to Wanda, though. He doesn't even know how. He hopes what he's said so far is enough, and subtly watches her face for more questions or confusion as he chews on his lower lip.

"Oh," Wanda says. She looks like she's about to ask him something else, but then turns back to her pizza again. Erik picks up his, too, though he's more nervous than hungry.

_Just wait,_ Charles says. _You're doing fine._

_Just once I would like you to tell me something useful when you're spying on people for me,_ Erik replies. He ignores the phantom pinch.

Wanda finishes her pizza and twists in her chair to look out at the ocean. They're next to a metal railing, about ten feet up from the sand of the beach. The ocean is lapping against the shore and Wanda's eyes seem to follow the water as she props her feet on on the rail. Erik turns too, making a neat pile of their finished plates and crusts, waiting for the next question, the one he can feel brewing between them.

"How do you know?" she asks, very quietly. He almost doesn't hear it over the noise of the ocean, the gulls, the families on the beach. "How do you know...I mean, if you're...gay or bisexual or maybe you just have a crush on someone. How do you figure it out?"

_Don't say 'years of therapy and a very understanding husband,'_ Charles says.

_You're not helpful,_ Erik says.

_And don't ask her if she's gay,_ Charles says. _She wants plausible deniability. She doesn't know what's going on in her head right now._

Right. Okay. He can do this.

"I wish I had an easy answer for you," he says. "It's...mostly what feels right. People don't really fit into boxes as easily as the world would want. Just like we were talking before, about how all mutations are different so all mutants are different, even though people like to group us together? Well, being gay or not being gay or...whatever...that's the same thing." He congratulates himself on that flash of inspiration. "Everyone's experience isn't the same, so there's no set of rules about how to tell if someone is...anything."

Wanda frowns again. 

"But everyone--everyone is something, right?" Wanda asks. "How do people know?"

His heart is breaking for her. He would never in a million years wish all of this confusion and anxiety on anyone, let alone his daughter. He wants her to have good things. He wants her to be happy and secure and confident. She sounds scared. He doesn't want her to be scared.

_Being fifteen is scary,_ Charles says. _You're doing what you can. You can't take everything away from her, you know. She needs the fraught experiences so she can learn from them and grow._

_That's the stupidest thing you've ever said to me,_ Erik lies.

_It's one of the truest,_ Charles tells him. _You can't wrap her up and tell her everything is going to be okay. I mean, it is, but that's not what she needs to hear. She needs to hear she's not alone. That there's nothing wrong with confusion._

_You're useless,_ Erik tells him. He steals a glance at Wanda and then grasps for a way to continue.

"It's not...don't worry about it being something anyone has to define," he says, staring out into the water. He risks a sideways glance at Wanda. She, too, is looking anywhere but at him. Good to know this is awkward for both of them. "A lot of people look at it as...something that can change as we change, you know? It's better to be focused on who you like than what that means. Like, Charles and I have a friend, who, for the first twenty-nine years of her life, only liked women. She only dated women, she was only interested in women, she was only ever with women. And she called herself a lesbian. And then, one day, she met this guy and she fell in love with him. And he's the only man, still, she's ever found herself attracted to. And she married him, but she still feels like a lesbian, because she's still primarily attracted to women."

"Doesn't that make her bisexual, though?" Wanda asks.

"Well, labels and stuff like that...it's all down to, uh, personal choice," he says. "She doesn't think of herself as bisexual because she's really only interested in women and one man. Charles' friend Moira dated women and men both all through high school and college. She's been with Nick for over ten years, but she's still attracted to women, so she still thinks of herself as bisexual. There aren't really...rules for it. Whatever feels right, I guess. Or nothing at all. No one has to define themselves if they don't want to."

Wanda is quiet--the only sound from next to Erik is the echoing of her shoes scratching against the steel railing. He thinks maybe they're done, maybe they can go back to discussing something inconsequential, or at least less personal, but after a few minutes of silence, Wanda quietly asks, "What about you?"

Erik can feel himself blushing, but he swallows back his hesitance and tries to formulate an answer.

"I...don't know," he admits. He's proud of how steady his voice is. "I...well, I have in the past, uh--" He grasps blindly for a word to explain his desires that's appropriate for use with his daughter. "--I've liked men and women both. I guess I'd still say I'm bisexual. But...well, since I met Charles I...don't really think about that any longer."

It's strange how saying it out loud to Wanda makes it that much clearer in his head. All of his personal confusion and struggle to define himself suddenly neatly slots into place.

"Really?" Wanda asks. She sounds slightly skeptical, but Erik can only shrug.

"Really," he says. 

She looks at him, just out of the corner of her eye, and after a moment seems to accept what he's said as the truth and refocuses her attention on the water. Erik tries not to sigh in relief.

"I'm going to get a soda," she says after a few moments of quiet. "Do you want anything?"

"I'm good," he says, and leans forward to dig out his wallet. He holds out a twenty that she doesn't immediately take.

"I have money," she says, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Yeah, but I'm your dad. Save it for next time," he says, embarrassed at the relief he feels when she thanks him and takes the money, disappearing back up towards the cafe. He sighs and slumps forward against the metal railing. Fuck, but parenting is rough.

He realizes then that Charles has been particularly quiet for several minutes, now.

_Did you go back to sleep?_ he asks gently, hoping he won't wake Charles if he has.

There's a sort of ripple of acknowledgement, but Charles doesn't say or think anything for another moment or two.

_Is that true?_ Charles finally asks him. It's not faint, precisely, it's just as clear as any of this thoughts, but...tentative, maybe.

_What?_ Erik asks.

_You don't think about other people any longer,_ Charles says. _Is that...?_

_Oh,_ Erik says. He closes his eyes and leans his head against his arms, which are propped up on the railing. _Yes. It's true. I thought you knew._

_I didn't know,_ Charles says. _I didn't want to look. I didn't want to know. I know that...there are things I can't give you. Things I can't do. I know sometimes it's not easy. And I wouldn't hold it against you if you thought about other people, obviously, I'm not the thought police and I know you would never--I know it must be difficult. I wouldn't blame you for wondering what it would be like if life was easier._

It is hard, sometimes. There have been nights that Erik has been half out of his mind with wanting Charles, only for Charles' body to stubbornly refuse to participate in anything physical. There was a steep learning curve the first few times they went to bed together that made Erik nervous and awkward, even as Charles walked him through it. And they are somewhat limited by what Charles can do when it comes to positions and location and timing, both in bed and in life in general. Erik's gotten used to calling places in advance to ask about accessibility, or, more frequently, sticking to the places they know rather than venturing out. Even little things, like moving through a crowd when he's in a rush or running errands around town have more moving parts and take more time than he'd like. His whole worldview had to change when he met Charles. It's far from easy.

But Erik loves Charles. He's insanely attracted to him, still--Charles still looks far younger than his years, but he's less boyish and more striking, now. Constant, stubborn use of a manual wheelchair has made his upper body almost sinful. His eyes are gorgeous and his mouth is unfairly perfect. More than that, Erik _likes_ Charles. He enjoys spending time with him. He would choose to spend time with Charles over anyone else. Charles teases him and listens to him and argues with him and looks out for him. He's brilliant and he's funny and he has a huge heart. It's not just about the mechanics of sex, it's about what makes Erik feel good, what turns him on, what makes him smile, what fills him with the effusive, bubbling joy that threatens to make him split in two. Charles is the only person who can make him feel that way. Why would his mind go looking for it anywhere else?

He opens all of those thoughts to Charles' perusal and can't help but smile at Charles' resulting surprise and delight.

_You never stop surprising me,_ Charles says, like a warm whisper in his ear, gentle and full of affection and awe. _Come home soon. I want to see you._

_As soon as Wanda gets bored of me,_ Erik promises.

_Mm, speaking of,_ Charles says, just as Wanda says, "Dad?" from behind him.

Erik opens his eyes and sits up, rolling his shoulders.

"Charles is awake," he says by way of explanation. It's not entirely a lie.

"Oh, cool," Wanda says. "Um, Jean just texted to ask if I want to go get ice cream with her and Kitty and Lorna. I think I'm gonna go, if that's okay?"

Erik stands up from the table and stretches. All of the muscles of his back are still tense from their conversation. He feels like he dodged a bullet, but with much less precision than he would ordinarily be able to dodge a bullet.

"That's fine," he says. He takes his wallet out again and hands Wanda another twenty. Fatherhood is expensive. "For the ice cream. I'll go home and check in on Charles. Why don't you call us when you're done and we'll come get Lorna?"

"I'll text Charles," Wanda says. Charles hates texting even more than Erik does, but in his eagerness to connect with his stepchildren, he may have enthusiastically endorsed texting about a year ago. Erik finds it oddly endearing.

"That sounds good," he says. "Do you know where you're going?" She nods.

"I'll see you guys later," she says. She hesitates for a moment, looking at Erik, and then quickly closes the distance between them and hugs him. "Thanks, Dad," she says.

Erik pets her hair. He can't stop the smile from creeping across his face.

"Anytime, baby," he says. He kisses the top of her head. "I love you, you know."

Wanda pulls away and smiles up at him. She looks incredibly like her mother. "I know," she says. "I love you too."

Erik watches her skip back up to the road, already texting Jean back. He feels good. He feels like maybe he's not as terrible a father as he sometimes fears. He feels like he knows, just a little bit, what he's doing. 

He feels incredibly, _entirely_ relieved that the heart to heart is over and he can go back to being a confused screw-up again.

_Hush,_ Charles says. _You're not a screw-up. You're brilliant. Now come home and be brilliant here with me._

_Fifteen minutes,_ Erik assures him, and heads back up to the road himself. 

The late afternoon and evening are still in front of him, but regardless of what they bring, Erik feels confident that today has been a good day.


End file.
